Broken
by TheBeatingOfTheDrums
Summary: Francis Combeferre suffers with low self-esteem, anxiety, and depression. He is suicidal. It is up to Enjolras and Courfeyrac to save him.
1. Chapter 1

Francis Combeferre stared into a mirror. He was clothed in nothing but his boxers. His eyes loathed at what they saw. Where there was the smallest bit of stomach flab, he saw fat. Where there was muscle, he saw extra weight. Where he saw his face, which happened to be fairly attractive, he saw a hideous monster.

_They were right_. He thought. _I am ugly. Hideous. Fat. Weak._

A gleam caught his eye. He looked to it. A pocket knife, which Courfeyrac had given him, was reflecting the light of the setting sun.

"What do I have to live for?" Combeferre questioned to himself. "I live for God above; this I know. Is there anything else? Who loves me? Nobody loves me. Nobody wants me. Nobody needs me."

The intelligent teenager picked up the knife. The glimmer on it seemed to call to him. The sharp edge was lusting for his skin. He did it. One cut. Two cuts. He hissed at the pain, and then realized that he was feeling better. The pain in his heart was gone.

Another cut. One on his thigh. Another across his shoulder. A small one on his chest. He worked on the other arm, feeling anxious. Over what? He didn't know.

Blood covered his body. The strong, concrete Combeferre was broken. His hands shook as he drew another cut across his body. The blade dropped to the ground as he did.

"I am going to die." He mumbled to himself. "I will be gone..."

He stared ahead of him as there was nothing to do. It was too late. It was all over. He didn't even get to say goodbye to Courfeyrac or Enjolras. The two people who cared about him. He blocked out their love for him when he was depressed.

The front door opened. "Ferre, I'm home!" A familiar voice called out.

Combeferre moaned loudly from inside his room. He tried his best to catch his friend's attention.

"Hey, where are you?" The voice asked.

The bleeding man made the loudest noise he possibly could with the little strength he had. Footsteps grew louder as they neared his room. The door swung open to reveal a young teenager, fifteen years old, whose face turned from jubilant to horrified.

"Combeferre!" He yelled as he sprinted over to his friend's side.

"Courf..." Combeferre mumbled.

"We've got to get you to Joly!"

Courfeyrac hauled his friend into his muscular arms before running out of the apartment room. He ran down the hall, seven doors down, and kicked the door with his foot.

Combeferre was wavering in and out of consciousness. His blood stained Courfeyrac's clothes.

"Joly! Open the door!" Courfeyrac cried, tears slowly falling down his face.

A muffled voice came from inside the room. "For heaven's sake, Courfeyrac, this better be worth my time."

The door opened. Joly saw the body before letting out a yell of panic. "Get him on the table, Courfeyrac!" He said before sprinting off.

The young man carefully laid the body on the table. Combeferre reached up to touch his friends face. Courfeyrac grabbed his hand and kissed it.

"My brother, what have you done?" He mumbled against the skin of his wrist.

"I'm sorry..." Combeferre breathed.

Joly returned with a box full of medical supplies. "I have alerted Bossuet of the situation. He has gone to retrieve Enjolras." He said, pulling out cleansing pads and needles. His eyes met Combeferre's. He sighed uneasily. "I will try to save you, my friend. I will try..."

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

Enjolras tapped his pencil out of boredom as he sat in night class. Primary school was the worst. He longed to be in secondary school with his older friends. The teacher kept mumbling about mathematics when the door suddenly burst open.

Enjolras jumped in his seat before looking at the door. His friend, Bossuet, was huffing and puffing.

"Excuse you!" exclaimed the teacher.

"I need Julien Enjolras right now!"

The class turned around to stare at the blond haired boy. Enjolras gathered his belongings quickly before walking out of the classroom.

"What on earth are you doing?" Enjolras hissed.

"You are Combeferre's only emergency contact for the University that is alive." Bossuet replied.

Enjolras, almost sixteen years old, felt his heart beat faster. "What is wrong with Francis?" He asked in a low tone.

"He's cut himself."

Enjolras stopped in his tracks and stared at Bossuet.

"You pulled me out of class because Francis has a cut?" He questioned.

Bossuet began shaking, his breaths short. "Enjolras. He does not HAVE a cut. He has CUT himself."

"Like suicide?"

"Yes."

Enjolras felt his heart sink. He became weak. His legs became of no use. He leaned against a wall and slouched down. "My Francis Combeferre tried to…commit suicide?" He breathed.

Bossuet hauled Enjolras into his arms and began to carry him. The teenager was light. He was scared.

Meanwhile in Joly's dorm room, yells of pain were being blasted into the air. These cries were carried down the hallway, so it caught the attention of Jean Prouvaire, Bahorel, Marius, and Feuilly. They were sitting outside the door, as commanded by Joly, waiting anxiously. Courfeyrac did his best to keep Combeferre quiet, but there was no use. Grantaire had been called over to bring his alcohol. It was used to pour over Combeferre's deep cuts, which burned like hell. Joly had to stitch up most of the wounds because the cuts were gashes. Grantaire, for this moment, was cover. Even in serious situations, he drank. But not now. He couldn't disrespect his friend in such a time as this.

The young men in the hallway suddenly heard a rapid thudding from a bit away. The sound soon became for distinct. It was running feet. They saw their dear friend Enjolras sprinting down the hallway as fast as he could. Marius and Bahorel both stood up. Before Enjolras could get to the door, they both stopped him.

"Let me go! I need to see him!" He yelled.

"We can't let you in, Enj!" Marius cried. "It's overcrowded!"

Enjolras lost it. He fell to the floor in tears. He was sobbing heavily into his knees. None of the Amis (besides Combeferre himself) had ever seen Enjolras cry. It struck every young man who saw this in the heart.

Combeferre could hear cries from outside. He squeezed Courfeyrac's hand, which he had not let go of. "I hear him." He mumbled.

Courfeyrac snapped out of his deep thoughts and noticed the crying. "That couldn't be Enjolras." He said.

Combeferre made a distressed sound from pain. "I know what his cries sound-" He yelled in pain.

Joly had stuck a needle into his leg. Outside, Enjolras cried harder at the yell. He got up and banged on the door with his fist. "Please! Let me in!" He cried.

Marius pull Enjolras away from the door just as it opened.

Grantaire stood there. He sighed heavily and pulled Enjolras into the room. When he saw his friend on the table, stitched up and blood, he let out another cry. He ran over to Combeferre's side. "Francis!" He said through sobs.

Combeferre saw Enjolras crying. It broke his concrete heart wen he saw him cry. His hand reached up to touch his face.

"Julien…don't cry…" He whispered softly.

Enjolras pressed his face against Combeferre's bare, wounded chest. Joly rested his hand on Enjolras' shoulder.

"He doesn't have long, my friend."

And with that Enjolras wrapped his arms tightly around Combeferre.


	3. Chapter 3

It was midnight. Combeferre showed slim signs of progress. Joly was working the best he could to keep him alive. Enjolras and Courfeyrac sat on the bed in Joly's room. Both were embracing each other, not speaking a word.

Eventually Enjolras spoke. "What did I do wrong...?"

Courfeyrac squeezed his friend tighter in the embrace. "You did nothing, Julien. Francis has been depressed for a while. You know it." He replied softly.

"David...I was not there for him. His mother passed and I was not there." Enjolras' voice grew louder.

"It is not your fault! I promise!" Courfeyrac responded, shaking Enjolras by the shoulders a bit.

Enjolras stayed strong for a few more seconds before bursting into tears. He couldn't help it. He was so weak. Joly came into the room and sat on the bed. He held his arms securely around the blond while he spoke to Courfeyrac.

"I need to move him onto this bed. I must watch over him tonight. He is improving slowly, and I want to keep it that way." He explained.

Courfeyrac nodded. He took Enjolras by the hand and he pulled him off the bed. Enjolras was an emotional wreck. If Combeferre died, then he would too. Not from suicide, but from depression. Just pure depression would make him so sluggish that he would die.

Joly carried Combeferre into the room. The 20 year old was pale and wrecked. There were so many stitches it was unbelievable.

Courfeyrac gently rubbed Enjolras' shoulder. "I've got to get back to our dorm. I have a test early in the morning. I'll come by here before I leave." He said before walking out the dorm.

Joly watched Combeferre, wrote down a few things, and then would glance over at Enjolras. The young boy's cries had decreased to hiccups.

Three hours passed before Enjolras was almost asleep at the foot of Joly's bed. That's when Joly started speaking. "Yes, that is good progress, my friend. It is excellent. Don't give up now." He said.

Enjolras's blue eyes peered over the edge of the bed. His saw Combeferre's green eyes flick around the room. He stood up and gently sat at the edge of the bed. Combeferre saw the teenager.

A sigh escaped from his mouth. "Go back to the dorm with David."

"But I want to stay here with you." Enjolras sniffed, sounding like an innocent child.

Joly sat up straight. "I agree with Combeferre. You need some rest. It is not good for you to be awake at this time of night." He said.

"You are." The blond spat back.

Combeferre looked weakly to Joly. "Please make him go." He begged.

"I'm not leaving!" Enjolras cried, standing up straight. "I am staying right here with you, Francis! You can't just try to kill yourself and expect me to carry on with my life! I can't go on without you! Andre keeps saying that you only have a small chance of living. Francis, do you know how much you mean to me? To David? To all of our Amis? We love you! I love you. Don't expect me to shut you out. I can't do that."

Combeferre sighed heavily he grabbed Enjolras' hand and pulled him into the bed. "Come here, baby..." He said softly.

Enjolras laid down next to the young man. His cries were muffled by the hair that had been stuck by sweat to Combeferre's neck.

"I would not advise that. If he strains you too much, then it could change your blood flow, which is not what we need right now for your survival." Joly said warningly.

"Andre...let him be. I know what will happen if I am strained. It will be worth it if I die." He whispered.

Joly sighed and nodded. He got up to clean off the area in the living room, where most of the night's tragedy had occurred.

Combeferre looked down to Enjolras. "I am sorry for putting you through this. I am so selfish for making everyone suffer. I should not have made it. If I hadn't, it would've been over with. None of this." He said.

Enjolras snuggled closer to his friend, his nose nuzzling his neck. "But then I wouldn't be able to be with you right now. I would have to kill myself if I had to survive one day with your death. Francis, I can't do it on my own. I need you there for me. You've always been there for me." He said.

Combeferre's green eyes had tears in them. "You were there for me when my father beat me. You took me in with your family. You saved me. You were there when I wanted to kill myself." The tears in Combeferre's eyes slowly slid down his cheeks.

"I know." He breathed.

"And do you remember what you told me after I said I couldn't take it? I remember exactly what you said. You said, 'Baby, listen to me. I've read a book with the most inspirational quote: the greatest oak was once a little nut that held its ground. Now right now, you're a little nut. Hold your ground, Julien. If you can't, I'll be there to protect you.' I felt better after that. Francis, now I'm saying this to you."

"Julien..."

"Hold your ground. If you can't, I will protect you."

"Julien..."

"Please just hold on for me. I need you. I can't live a day without you."

"Julien!"

"What?"

Combeferre pressed his lips against Enjolras's cheek. "It is time for you to go to sleep. You have class in the morning."

"Not until late afternoon."

"I will not permit you to stay in here with me unless you go to sleep now."

Enjolras watched Combeferre before he sank into his embrace and closed his eyes. "I love you, Francis." The blond mumbled against his shoulder.

"I love you more, mon petit frere." Combeferre replied before pulling the ribbon out of Enjolras' long blond hair. "If I do not wake tomorrow, just remember that." He said.

Enjolras shivered slightly and nodded. "I will. Be strong, Francis."

"I will."


End file.
